And to continue our cocktailing adventure...Last we left our fair damsels, they were attracting a collection of gents at the swank Town Bar off of Fifth Avenue. But, once the ceremonial passing of digits had gone off without a hitch, it seemed time to move on. Why press our luck?
However, after a few of Town's tasty libations, we thought better of heading straight to the next watering hole. We made a beeline for the Parker Meridien for a quick pitstop at Burger Joint, but the line was well into the lobby. Determined to dine inexpensively before hitting our next pricey booze hall, we settled on a quick fix of Chicken and Cashew in Bird's Nest at Topaz Thai.
Sated, we ventured on. Unfortunately the bar at 8 1/2 was desolate. We'd have to turn elsewhere. But where? And then I knew...
We needed to see Norman.
Norman Bukofzer is a legendary, old world (when the "old world" was Brooklyn) bartender who hangs his hat and cocktail shaker at the Ritz-Carlton's Star Bar (pictured above). His fans range from Bono to Baronesses (I actually sat next to one - a Baroness, not Bono).
Erica and I sashayed into the elegant bar room and, as luck would have it, two bar stools suddenly became available. With no Vaz on the menu, we decided to let Norman concoct to his heart's delight. And, as we placed our devil-may-care order, we seemed to capture the delight of a dapper gent sitting to Erica's left. He smiled like the Cheshire cat and immediately engaged us in conversation.
It took me a little while to pinpoint what it was about this man that was so darn attractive. His grin? His laugh? His elegant, good looks? His Spanish accent? His all too perfectly tailored suit? His glamorous, jet-setting, fashion industry life?
Nah...
It became clearer and clearer as we spoke. He loved women. Adored women. Gloried in all woman kind. Short. Tall. Skinny. Rubenesque. Dark. Fair. Shy. Exhuberant. Demure. Vivacious.
He would find something to love and admire in each and every one.
Oh, to witness such a man. Perhaps a cad (in this case, definitely so, since he asked me to meet him the next night at the Essex House Hotel bar, even though he wore a wedding ring), but still a remarkable soul in his celebration of all that is female.
I wouldn't want to be married to such a man. But, damn, I'm so glad that they do exist.
I didn't meet him at the Essex House the next night. But, Erica and I were glad to accept his company, his compliments, his wit, his vivid spin on life, fashion and music - and his offer to pick-up our drinks.
All in all, it was a magnificent evening, which was capped off with an ever-glamorous trip on the "F" train, back to Brooklyn, featuring the musical talents of a busker and a few girlish giggles shared with a dear friend.
Next time, it'll be Erica's turn to choose a new hood. The shake and stir probably won't direct us to Midtown. But where ever we go, I hope there are good cocktails, good men and a few girlish giggles at the night's end.
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